


Breathe

by Novapple



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: And so is Connor, Angst, Case Fic, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gavin is a hot mess, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Past Abuse, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), timestamps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 19:33:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novapple/pseuds/Novapple
Summary: Two missing persons. One reluctant partnership.Connor is back with the DPD, sad, hot, and mysterious as ever— much to Gavin’s annoyance. What makes matters worse is the guilt that comes along with seeing Connor again. He has to live every day knowing that he tried to murder the dude.When the two are partnered up on a seemingly impossible-to-solve case, the last thing Gavin expects is to fall in love. Least of all, with Connor.Someone he can never, ever have.*HIATUS*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Unlike my other multi-chapter fic, I’ve actually planned and outlined this whole thing! Hoorah for organization. This story is my baby, so I hope y’all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it <3

_ January 10, 2039  _

Snow is pelting Detroit the day Connor comes back. It must be an omen of some kind.

Gavin has known for weeks now that he was returning as a full-fledged detective— no training, no previous position as an officer, not even a damn degree. It's infuriating. He had to work his ass off just to become an officer and then had to work his ass off _more_ for a detective position. But of course, all the stops are pulled for an android. What makes it so much worse is that he knows it's for the best. Having Connor write speeding tickets all day long would be a waste of resources. Still. It's fucking wrong.

Apologizing is going to be a bitch.

He's been guilt ridden ever since the Revolution, hearing those deviants sing that stupid song like a flash mob of theater kids. It'd felt like someone doused him in ice water. He was supposed to go help evacuate the city an hour prior but he'd been frozen in front of the break room TV, ice pack still pressed to his face thanks to Connor. It wasn't, surprising really. It was always just a matter of time before technology became sentient. He just hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

Androids are legally living beings, complete with emotions, ambitions, and empathy.

And he'd treated Connor like shit just because he could. Because he could and there wouldn't be any repercussions because Connor couldn't _feel_. He wasn't supposed to feel it. Seeing Connor on TV standing with an army behind him had knocked the breath out of him. He'd been wrong. Everyone had been wrong and it fucking sucks.

He never even had anything against androids, other than the bitter taste of the name that came along with them. Kamski. A constant reminder of everything his life could've been had circumstances been different. Had his mother left with none of her children instead of one. The Kamski name was always the single problem he had with androids.

And then the shiny new detective came along and threatened his job. His career. The only reassurance that he belongs in this world because he _saves lives_.

Connor could have easily stolen his job and by extension stolen his self worth. And he couldn't fucking have that.

Just because Connor is considered a living being now doesn't mean he has to like him. He doesn't even like most humans. So. He's going to apologize only because he'd tried to straight up murder the dude. He'll get rid of this goddamn guilt and then he's done. Everything can go back to normal. The new normal.

Simple as that.

When Connor trails into the precinct, hiding behind Hank like it's his first time here, Gavin knows immediately that _it is not going to be that simple_.

The pen he's been chewing on falls out of his mouth, eyes nearly popping out of his skull. Tina cackles somewhere in the near vicinity.

The first thing he notices is the hair. It's different- still the same dark brown, still neatly trimmed on the sides, but the _top_. It's _curly_.

Gavin has exactly two weakness when it comes to men:

  * Brown eyes
  * _Curls_



In waltzes Robocop checking both of those boxes. Gavin hates himself. He knows better than to even be thinking this. Those weaknesses have gotten him into big trouble and he's got the ugly scars to prove it.

But shit, Connor's taking his jacket off to reveal a damn waistcoat and he's got black jeans on and his legs are so _long_ and he knows he's done for. Just like that. A matter of seconds is all it takes for Connor to completely ruin his plan. Amazing. Weeks of practicing what to say completely gone to shit all because he's a gay disaster.

He doesn't think he could talk to him without blushing and that is so not happening right here in the middle of work. Blatantly checking Connor out when he was a machine was one thing. Now, it's a whole other ballgame.

Maybe he could just corner him in the break room or something, say a quick sorry and—

No. No, he's shutting that idea down before it's even fully formed. He can't be alone with Connor— not after their last encounter. He has no right because Connor is probably fucking scared of him.

He hasn't yet thought about that very likely possibility. Of course Connor is probably terrified of him. He pointed a gun at his head not one, not two, but _three_ times. You can't just suddenly be chill with the person who tried to murder you. Gavin should have thought of this because he knows better than anyone, dammit. He lives in fear every day over something that happened years ago. Over someone who doesn't even exist anymore. Fuck.

Maybe Gavin is the one who should be scared of Connor— he did knock him out cold. Easily.

But he's not. Connor was just defending himself and if he wanted Gavin dead, he could've killed him right there in the archive room. After all the shit he pulled, Connor still let him live.

What if his presence at the station is enough to make Connor uneasy? Just knowing that Gavin's there. Shit. Is he going to have to apply for a transfer just to ease his fucking conscience?

He just needs to suck it up and apologize and then leave Connor the hell alone for the rest of his life. He owes him that.

***

He spends all day staring at him. Well, _trying_ to stare at him, at least. It seems Connor is nothing short of a celebrity now— he can barely see anything through the gaggle of people gathered around his desk all day. Disgusting. Suddenly everyone wants to be pals with the android, huh? No. They want to use him. In the past few days alone, He's heard at least four of those shitheads talking about how maybe they could get Connor to do their paperwork.

It gets to a point of causing such a commotion that it takes Fowler flinging himself out of his office for everyone to dissipate. For a moment, Connor's small smile is visible when Fowler yells, "Can someone please tell me when I became the principal of a fucking high school? Leave Connor alone and do your goddamn jobs!"

It's the first real smile he's seen from him. It's…nice. Very human.

Connor doesn't spare a glance in his direction all day long.

_ January 14, 2039  _

A steaming cup of coffee is slammed down on his desk. Droplets jump out and stain the evidence photos he's been studying for the past hour. He doesn't need to look up to know who it is.

"Weeks. Weeks I had to listen to you whine and moan about apologizing to Connor. And now! Now, it's his fifth day back and your bitch ass hasn't even said one word to him."

"Good morning to you, too," he sips the coffee and winces. Too bitter. Not enough cream. She definitely did it on purpose just to spite him.

"You have to apologize to him, Gavin. I did and he was totally fine about it!" Her words are sharp but quiet, not wanting anyone else to hear. Gavin wouldn't care. It's not like everyone doesn't already know what a piece of shit he is.

"It's eating you alive, I know it is. And he deserves to hear it. It's the least you can do for him."

She is, as always, entirely right. Just— how is he supposed to do it when Connor refuses to even look at him? Almost a week has passed and it's so frustrating. He had been so fucking prepared to get it over with the moment Connor came back and now? Now, he just can't. And even if he did, it wouldn't be enough. Not even close. Nothing could ever be enough.

It is so much easier to pretend nothing ever happened.

The excitement over Connor's return has quieted. It must've become obvious to everyone that Connor is completely uninterested in the attention. He's quiet. Standoffish. The exact opposite of what Gavin expected. Besides Anderson, Tina is the only person he's seen him hold a conversation with. Of course she would worm her way in.

"Wait, what did _you_ have to apologize for?"

Tina makes a face that screams something along the lines of _you fucking dumbass_.

"Uh, maybe for silently watching as you verbally and physically assaulted him? What else?"

That day in the break room. Right. It seems so small in comparison to literally threatening his life. Tina doesn't know about the archive room. Or outside the archive room. Or the interrogation room. He can't bring himself to tell her. She was there that awful night years ago and she witnessed firsthand how much it fucked him up. The two situations aren't even remotely the same but—

She would be so fucking disappointed in him. Disgusted, even. He heaves a tired sigh like it will do something to ease the ache in his chest. Tina makes sure to get an eye roll in before she walks away.

Across the room, Connor drags a hand through his stupid, perfect hair in what looks to be frustration, yellow LED spinning away. A nice physical representation of how Gavin feels.

He wonders how it's possible for an android to look so sad.

_ January 19, 2039  _

Partnering with Connor is inevitable. New cases of assaulted and murdered androids turn up daily. There are so. Fucking. Many. Too many for Anderson and Connor to handle alone. He knows the day is coming when he'll be assigned an android related case. And he'll need Connor.

It would be best if they stop pretending the other doesn't exist now to save themselves the awkwardness of working together.

Gavin knows it's up to him to make the first move.

He cant.

_ January 24, 2039  _

For the first time in almost two years, he dreams of brown eyes, blonde curls, red ice, broken glass, and a shaking gun. The deadliest of combinations.

He wakes to wet cheeks and tears still streaming out, not sure if it's the nightmare or the crying itself that woke him.

He has to talk to Connor tomorrow. He will.

_ January 27, 2039  _

He's stress baking. Minnie is having a field day lapping up the puddle of spilled milk— which he accidentally steps in and now his sock is soaked. Nasty. He rips off the offending object and throws it blindly in the direction of the laundry room.

The oven timer is beeping.

His apartment smells like burned shit.

The milk jug is still on its side, last remnants dripping out.

He is _overwhelmed_. He has never in his life been good at managing stress and when he tries, it only makes everything worse.

Connor hasn't been to work in three days, but Hank has. Barely. He must be working a case, but on rare chances that Gavin has gotten glances of him, he seems totally out of it. He knows something bad happened with Connor. It takes all of his self control not to ask Hank about it.

Tina says she doesn't know what exactly happened, but she knows a little. She wont fucking tell him. She keeps saying not to worry, that he'll be back soon.

First of all, he's not _worried_.

He just wants to know. He's nosy. And he needs Connor to get his plastic ass back to work so he can finally fucking apologize, so the goddamn guilt will go away and the dreams will stop and—

He just needs to see Connor.

Until then, he guesses he'll just destroy his kitchen.

_ January 30, 2039  _

"Who are you texting?" He asks with a strong feeling he knows the answer.

"Connor," Tina doesn't look up from her phone. He resists the urge to scoff or make an ugly comment. That certainly wont get her to tell him anything.

"And before you ask for the hundredth time, no. I'm not telling you anything."

Well.

"But I will say," she sighs, "he's having a hard time adjusting. I think he's lonely."

 _Well_.

Lonely. He finds that hard to believe. Connor has Hank and now Tina and surely he's buddy-buddy with those android nerds.

"I know someone else who's lonely," Tina says quietly. This time he does scoff.

"I have you. And Minnie."

She snorts.

Of course he's lonely. Sometimes he misses having someone to share a bed with so much it feels like he could just fall apart. On the rare occasion he sees Tina and her fiancé together (Lydia doesn't like him, so she tends to stay away,) it hurts. They're so damn sweet and good to each other and Gavin should be happy for his friend and he _is_. But mostly jealous. It would just be nice to have someone.

He hasn't had a relationship since Him. He'll probably never have one again because he's become this mean, unlovable thing only good for a quick fuck and even _that_ hasn't happened in over a year.

It's fine. He's fine with being alone for the rest of his miserable fucking life. It's not like he's an unsociable hermit. He's a damn detective, practically makes a living off talking to people. And he wasn't lying about having Tina and Minnie. They are enough. More than enough. Two important ladies who've been with him through all the shit— he doesn't deserve them.

So. He's fine.

***

Minnie is curled up by his head as he tries and fails to fall asleep. Tina's words are stuck on repeat.

Gavin's lonely.

Connor is apparently lonely.

Maybe he should do more than just apologize. Maybe they could be friends. Friends with an android that he tried to murder. A voice at the forefront of his mind tells him what a stupid thought that is. But a tiny voice in the back is shouting _what if._

_ February 1, 2039  _

This is his chance.

Connor is back, looking so much like a kicked puppy that Gavin thinks maybe somebody should give the poor guy a hug.

He wonders when he started thinking of androids as 'poor guys.'

The day drags on and on. It's only been three hours since his shift started and it feels like it should be time to go home already. He's going to do it. Just march over and say what needs to be said. He's finally going to fucking do it. Maybe.

The clock has only changed by one minute since he last looked at it.

It would probably be better to wait till the end of the day anyway, that way if Connor doesn't react well, he wont be forced to sit here in embarrassment.

As if by some miracle, like the universe is telling him it's time, Anderson leaves early. Connor stays behind. Amazing. It's a quiet day, less people in than usual. Tina is out on patrol, so no risk of interference. The perfect opportunity. He sucks in a breath and starts making his way across the room.

He needs a fucking tranquilizer to calm his fucking nerves. Jesus. The way his hands are sweating, it's like his body thinks he's about to ask the dude to prom.

Halfway there, he wants to turn back so, so bad. This isn't a good idea. He doesn't fucking _deserve_ Connor's forgiveness. And he probably wont get it anyway. So this is useless.

But he's already here. And Connor has paused typing. Odd. Gavin thought he could just do all that in his head. And what's even weirder is he's only using one hand. The other sits prim and proper in his lap, covered in a black glove. What the hell?

"Can I help you, Detective?" Connor says in the most clipped, unfeeling voice he's ever heard. He sounds more robotic than when he actually _was_ a robot. So much for being alive.

Such a bad idea. He can't.

He can't.

"Why is your fuckin' hair like that?" He blurts out in a hardcore judgmental tone. _Whywhywhywhy_ —

He is such a goddamn idiot. Connor slowly turns his head, chocolate eyes meeting Gavin's for the first time in months. His heart would probably flutter from Connor's intimidating beauty if not for the death glare he's currently being leveled with.

Connor doesn't say anything. Just turns back to his work and starts one handed typing again.

He is _such_ a fucking idiot. There is no way to save this. He's a fucking mess— should just turn and do the walk of shame back to his desk.

"Uh, your hand. I meant your hand. What's up with the whole Michael Jackson one glove getup?"

Seriously. What is his problem? Is it really that hard just to say ' _Look, Connor, I'm sorry for almost murdering you and probably leaving you with lasting emotional damage._ '

Yeah. Apparently, it is because his mouth just keeps spewing bullshit.

"Something to do with why you haven't been to work in a week? Not to bust your balls but—"

"What exactly are you trying to accomplish here, _Detective_?"

Connor fucking snaps, raising his voice and spinning in his chair to pierce him with another one of those icy glares. A black and white contrast from a minute ago. From machine to incredibly pissed human just like that. It raises his hackles and his instinct is to yell right back, maybe even shove him. But he's not here to add to the list of things he's sorry for.

They deflate at the same time. Gavin takes a step back as Connor sighs, raking a hand through his curls. If not for the yellow LED, It would be easy to mistake him for an actual, real life person. He sure as hell looks as stressed and fed up as one.

"I suppose Fowler has debriefed you of the situation, then," Connor states rather than questions.

What? Debriefed him of what situation? Connor must mistake his silence for petulance because he lowers his head in resignation.

"I don't love the idea of working with you either. But do you think that you could be a professional for just a few days? Innocent lives are at stake. Or do you even care?"

And, oh man, was that the wrong thing to say. Gavin is heated in an instant, yanking Connor up by his pristine white shirt collar. He'll hate himself later but right now it's totally worth it.

"I don't know what the fuck you're even talking about, but don't you _dare_ ever imply that I don't care about my job ever again. Got it?" He manages to growl out before Connor shoves him with only one hand. Hard. Hard enough to knock him flat on his ass.

"Don't touch me ever again. Got it?" Connor parrots back, dark and dangerous. There are muffled snickers throughout the room and in that moment of pure humiliation, Fowler's office door flies open.

"Reed! In. Here. Now."

Awesome. Damn those glass walls— Gavin knows he saw the whole thing. He pushes himself off the floor and doesn't make eye contact with anyone. So fucking embarrassing. At least there's not many people here. If this would've happened with a full house (like the day Connor came back,) he probably would have just died on the spot. He hopes they all enjoyed the show.

He certainly doesn't look at Connor, as he walks past him. Seeing whatever human emotion those doe eyes are filled with at the moment would kill him. It hasn't even been a minute and he's already trudging knee deep through regret.

He doesn't look, but he feels everyone's eyes on him as he clicks the office door shut behind him. Just don't let Fowler start yelling and give them something else to laugh at.

"Sit."

He sits.

"Now, do you wanna tell me what the fuck just happened out there?"

Ah. Fowler is using the _I-Am-King-of-This-Castle-and-If-You-Say-One-Word-To-Piss-Me-Off-Then-Your-Ass-Will-Be-Grass_ Voice. He would much prefer the yelling.

What _did_ happen back there? He doesn't fucking know. Everything escalated until he lost his temper just like how it always happens.

"I guess I was just being a dumbass. Sir," He's not sucking up, just being truthful.

"Damn right. You cannot fucking harass him, do you understand? With all these laws being passed and executive orders every other day, this department cannot afford mistakes. We've had enough bad press as it is."

"It wont happen again," he mumbles and Fowler huffs out a mean, humorless laugh.

"We'll see about that. I guess Connor already told you about the case?"

A case. Ah. He gets the feeling he knows what all this is about.

"…No. He didn't."

"Two women. One android, one human." Fowler touches his tablet, "File should be on your terminal now."

"Hank's been working a homicide while Connor was," he seems lost for words. Unusual. "Away. The case hasn't been closed yet and I need him on that."

He doesn't like where this is going.

"A call came in early this morning from a man saying his android partner was missing. I gave the case to Connor, no problem. Three hours later, another call comes in. Another missing girl, only this one's human. Now, being that these cases are likely related, considering the time frame, and Connor's trial period doesn't allow him to work human cases alone," he sends a pointed look across his desk. Huh. Trial period? Gavin didn't know anything about that.

"I need both of you on this."

Oh, _shit_. He knew it. He fucking called it— knew he'd end up having to partner with Connor. Of all the days for this to happen, it had to be the one that Gavin chose to fuck everything up. It's almost funny.

"Just— why don't I take over Hank's case and he can deal with this? Connor hates me, and now you want me to babysit him? We wont—"

"Enough!" Fowler holds his hand up, "You and Connor are handling this. Do I make myself clear?"

Fuck. Fuck this.

"Crystal."

He slinks out the door, feeling like he's just been to the principal's office and working with Connor is his detention. Un-fucking-believable.

He needs coffee.

Lo and behold, someone is already standing in front of the machine. The exact person he doesn't want to fucking see right now and the exact person he told himself he couldn't be alone with. Well, here they are. Alone in the break room.

Gavin's heart beats faster. Connor spins around, and in an unexpected turn of events, holds a steaming paper cup out to him.

"I'm sorry," Connor says in a voice he's never heard before. He's heard robotic Connor and pissed Connor, and if he's remembering the bromance line correctly, then he's heard _sarcastic_ Connor.

Never this soft and sincere voice. What a fucking mood swing. He immediately makes his mind up that he doesn't deserve to be on the receiving end of this sudden gentleness. All his anger from earlier has dissipated. He's just tired, frozen, staring at what could possibly be a peace offering.

It's all wrong. Gavin is supposed to be the one apologizing with that guilt ridden look. It doesn't look good on Connor. Everything is so fucked.

"I was quick to make assumptions. I shouldn't have. Did I hurt you?"

His cheeks heat up. _Yeah, actually, my ass is sore and walking is gonna be a bitch tomorrow morning._

"No. Did I hurt you?"

His own voice surprises him by how quiet it comes out. Judging by Connor's expression change, it surprises him too. Then something darkens in his face, leaving Gavin unsettled.

"I'm unable to feel physical pain. I'm okay."

But he can feel psychological pain.

_How about when I punched you? Or when we were fighting in the archive room?_

He nods, awkwardly.

"I thought you might need this," Connor's weird expression clears and he nods toward the coffee in his outstretched hand. Gavin doesn't want to take it but he does. It's like he's being served a platter of guilt.

"I— uh. Thanks. I guess."

"Fowler informed you of the situation?"

He nods.

Connor looks _nervous_. Now that the coffee is out of his hand, he's somehow manifested a coin out of thin air and it seamlessly dances across his knuckles. Holy shit.

"I thought we might go speak with the families now, if that's alright with you?"

Connor flips his coin and catches it all in one fast, fluid motion.

He walks out before Gavin can say anything.

This is going to be hell.

***

Connor drives and he drives fast. It's not exactly unsafe, just jarring and unexpected. He really took Connor as a stickler for the law, being a part of the police force and all. When he voices this, it earns him a single eyebrow quirk.

"It's my understanding that most law enforcement officers regularly drive over the speed limit."

Connor awkwardly explains that he doesn't know what would happen if he ever got pulled over, being that androids don't need licenses since it's always been expected of them to drive humans places when need be (though, according to him, new laws requiring licensed androids are coming soon.)

"Well, let's not fuckin' find out today," he grumbles and grips his seatbelt a little tighter. Connor fucking speeds up and tells him that _he_ could've driven them.

Gavin has to awkwardly explain that he only has a motorcycle and has to use public transportation in winter.

Basically, it's all awkward.

Most of it is probably stemming from how horrible they were to each other not even two hours ago, and now have to make nice in order to save lives.

Life is sometimes funny like that.

There's something important to focus on now, though. Much more important than trying to figure out where the hell he stands with Connor.

Before they walk into the home of the man and missing android, Gavin makes a spur of the moment decision. If they're going to help these people to the best of their abilities, then he needs to take care of this right here, right now. No distractions after this.

He almost grabs Connor's arm to stop him from walking ahead, but what he said earlier sets off alarm bells. _Don't touch me ever again._

"Hey, Connor."

Connor stops right before walking up the snow dusted porch steps and turns to him, probably noticing the seriousness in his voice.

"If we're gonna work together, I gotta get this out, okay? I didn't come over earlier to pick a fight. I wanted to apologize."

They stare at each other for entirely to long.

"For what."

Connor knows exactly what. He's really going to make him say it, huh.

"For…ya know," he waves a hand around, "Everything."

It is nowhere close to the apology he deserves, but for the first time since Connor's been back, his LED glows blue. Only for a second. Then it's back to the worrying yellow. But that one second makes weeks of agonizing worth it.

For one second, just from a vague, shitty apology, he made Connor happy. Or calm or content or _whatever_.

The pure joy he feels from that knowledge confuses him. Is he feeling so elated just because he did a semi-good thing? Or because Connor's wearing the tiniest of smiles now and it's kinda fucking cute?

Shit.

He's so stupid. No distractions, his ass. Connor's entire being is a walking, talking distraction.

"Okay," Connor says slowly and breaks eye contact. He's unsure about something. Unsure if Gavin deserves forgiveness, probably.

He knew it. He fucking knew it. There's nothing more he can do.

"I don't— I don't want enemies, Reed. I don't want there to be unnecessary hostility between us over a stupid thing that happened months ago. I'd just like to start over, if that's possible," Connor says the last part like a question, like he's doesn't know if Gavin will even consider not abusing him. For some reason, that really fucking hurts. He hates himself. He really does.

There's nothing more he can do.

Except try to make it right.

What Tina said comes back to him. _I think he's lonely. I know someone else who's lonely._

Maybe Connor didn't graciously accept his apology like he was low key hoping for, but he's giving him a chance to start over. To be better. And that is so much more than he should be allowed. He swallows his nerves and holds out a hand.

"Gavin Reed, DPD. Libra, cat dad, and certified asshole."

Connor blinks at him. For a moment, he thinks he's made the wrong decision trying to be light and playful. And then Connor's hand (the one that isn't hidden in a glove hanging limply at his side) is squeezing his, and Connor is actually full on smiling now. Holy shit.

"Connor Anderson. DPD. Scorpio, assuming astrology applies to androids. I've never met a cat, but I like dogs. Certified asshole-proof."

So, he has a sense of humor. Great. His mouth goes dry.

The 'Anderson' tacked on blindsides him. He figures, it probably shouldn't have. Of course Hank would jump at the opportunity to have a son again.

"Nice to meet you, Connor."

"Likewise, Gavin."

They are still holding hands when the front door of the house opens and a man with worried brows clears his throat.

"Uh. You must be the detectives?"


	2. Chapter 2

_ February 2, 2039 _

Yesterday had been a lot to process. He'd never seen anyone so torn up over an android.

Heather. Her name is Heather.

Android/human relationships aren't a new concept, but definitely becoming more talked about now that androids can consent. Gavin doesn't know what to think about it. They're definitely alive. And Heather's boyfriend, Tate Sepúlveda, _definitely_ loves her— he's distraught.

They're here again today to look through some of her stuff, see if anything points to her leaving on her own accord. It's been under 72 hours since her disappearance, so they aren't inclined to rule out that she just up and left. It happens more often than not. Tate insists that she wouldn't do that. That's what they always say.

Tate is convinced something horrible happened— that some android hate group got ahold of her. According to him, they had just gotten home from a movie when Heather decided to check the mail. He'd gone ahead inside, expecting her to shortly follow. That was the last time he saw her.

There's not much to look at. Heather is an android, after all, so her whole life is basically stored in her head. They haven't been free long enough to stock up on many personal possessions.

Would androids even want to buy material things? Connor has his out-of-date car (but he's convinced that Hank bought it for him) and his nice clothes (upon closer inspection, he's realized they're secondhand— today he's wearing a dress shirt with a couple tiny holes in the sleeve.) He wonders if Connor has bought any dumb, meaningless shit with the money he's making now.

Probably not.

The only interesting thing they find is a back room full of painted portraits. And, really, it's not actually any help. Just a small peak into Heather's personality. An android artist. Naturally. The world has gotten so fucking weird.

They _are_ beautiful, though. All soft colors and people smiling. Nothing dramatic and angsty like he would've expected.

"She just loves seeing people so full of life, you know?" Tate says, picking up a small canvas. "But none of these compare to her. She's just. Always smiling. Like my own personal sun."

Gavin blinks at him. The concept of a robot being "full of life" is still so jarring. Like it's all just a big joke that everyone in the world is in on except for him. _Connor_ certainly isn't full of life. Maybe that's why it's so weird going into public and seeing bright blue LEDs and grinning faces— most have taken their LEDs out; he wonders how many he's mistaken for human. He's too used to Connor's awkward, unsure mannerisms, like deviancy is too much for him. Of course he would get stuck with the broken one.

He always looks so sad, especially when he thinks no one is looking.

Gavin never stops looking at him.

Right now would be a good example. Connor's smiling softly at Tate, but his eyes still hold that kicked puppy look. And, of course, his LED is indefinitely stuck on yellow.

"That must be nice," Connor says.

"Yeah. It's nice," Tate glances at Gavin. "I know a lot of people think it's weird being with an android. That…our relationship is somehow invalid, but. It's real. She's real."

Tate looks to Connor again.

"You guys are definitely real."

He decides he likes Tate. And Heather. And he and Connor will find her and save her so she can come back to her nice little home with her disgustingly sappy boyfriend and paint her pretty pictures.

They leave without having gained anything of value.

They also have to go back to the apartment of the newly married human couple, Eliza and Jared Cravens. Just Jared now. Gavin is less than thrilled.

Something about the man had seemed off yesterday. He was definitely worried about his wife but also…squirrelly.

And he'd been rude to Connor, flat out ignoring his questions until Gavin had snapped at him to fucking cooperate with his partner if he wanted to have any hope of ever seeing Eliza again. Too harsh for someone likely in shock, but there's only so much a person can take. He doesn't really have a right to be offended on Connor's behalf, considering his own past actions, but the blatant rudeness just rubbed him the wrong way. No time for bullshit when lives are on the line.

He glances over to the drivers side to see Connor wearing a grim expression. He probably doesn't even know he's doing it. Probably is dreading heading back over here just as much as Gavin.

"That Jared guy give off a weird vibe to you yesterday?" He tries to make conversation because the silence is _awkward_.

"A weird…vibe?"

"Just seems kinda douchey, ya know? Even got a douchebag name. Jared Cravens? _Jared_? That's like— classic asshole name. I bet he was a frat boy."

Lips quirk into an amused smile. It makes Gavin want to smile too, which is concerning to say the least.

"People handle emotional distress in different ways. Besides, Jared is hardly an offensive name. It means 'rose.'"

Gavin throws him his most annoyed look, even though all Connor's attention is completely focused on flying down the road in front of them.

"Yeah, right. How do you know that?"

This time he does take his eyes off the road to level Gavin with a _you're a dumbass_ kind of look. Must be getting lessons from Tina.

"Have you of all people forgotten that I am, essentially, a computer?"

No, he hasn't forgotten. Let it be known that Connor is the most computer-like of them all. He readies a smart ass remark, but Connor laughs quietly and he probably thinks Gavin is a dumbass, but it's fine because it's endearing and this is a light conversation, dammit. Don't make it aggressive.

"Shut up. What's my name mean then?"

It's not like he's never looked his name up before. But for one, he doesn't remember. And for two, he just likes talking to Connor. He's interesting.

Who would've thought.

"The origin of 'Gavin' is actually uncertain. There are various meanings ranging from 'white hawk' to 'godsend.'"

"Huh. Godsend sounds about right."

He's kidding of course, but Connor goes and makes it weird by saying, "Well, human life does seem like a miracle. By those standards, you really are a godsend."

He's so thankful Connor's driving because his face heats up in an instant.

"Yeah. Whatever."

They pull into the apartment complex parking and just sit. Neither of them want to go in and speak to this douche, even _if_ his wife is missing.

"What about 'Connor?'"

Connor turns to him, biting his lip to hold back a smile but pretty hilariously failing at it.

"Lover of hounds."

***

"I just don't know why you need to go through all our stuff, like I'm some kind of suspect."

They've been here ten minutes and he already wants to choke the guy.

" _Am I_ a suspect?"

Gavin's about to pop off with something, but Connor beats him to it.

"Not at this point. Though if you keep acting the way you are, it's likely our minds will change."

Fucking _savage_. What makes it better is that he says it like a dad scolding a child. He has to clamp his teeth over his bottom lip to hold back the grin that wants so badly to form.

Jared has a sour look on his face like he's just aching to lash out at Connor, but he's probably remembering Gavin's threat from yesterday. He keeps his mouth shut as they sift through Eliza's laptop and tablet. Small miracles.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Generic social media posts, stays out of politics, seems to like dumb online quizzes a little too much. So. Many. Wedding. Photos. They seem like a happy couple in all of their pictures. Eliza looks like a sweet girl— he wonders what she sees in this prick.

Couples are weird that way. One person sees someone who hung the stars and the rest of the world sees an asshole. And usually, at least in his experience, the rest of the world is right.

Maybe, just maybe, this lady is better off wherever she is right now.

But probably not. Their job is to find her and that's exactly what they'll do.

Connor runs a hand through his hair. Gavin has learned from days spent staring across the station that a hand through the hair means stress. And after, Connor will usually get up and talk a walk. God, he's been so creepy. He had the guy's quirks analyzed before he even got on okay terms with him. At least he has the excuse of being a detective— observant by nature and all that. Yeah. Sure.

Now, Connor stands and marches to where Jared sits monitoring them not even eight feet away. He looks like a man on a mission.

"Do you have her phone?" His words are cold and sharp.

"I— what?"

"Eliza's cellphone. Did it disappear with her or do you have it."

Shit. He'd just assumed it had been with her when she went missing. With the way this guy's acting, though…who knows.

Connor looms over him. Jared crosses his arms and looks to Gavin. Fucking asswipe.

"Detective Anderson asked you a question."

_Detective Anderson_. It sounds so strange saying it out loud, knowing he's talking about Connor.

He makes his way over to stand beside him.

Jared remains silent for a few more seconds before getting too squirmy with nerves.

"Yeah, I got it. You already looked through her other devices though, so—"

"Phones are among the first pieces of evidence that are inspected. I am concerned as to why you haven't handed it over."

"We needed that, like, yesterday," he manages to get his two cents in.

There is definitely something fishy here. Jared rubs his (probably sweaty) palms over his pants. The tension in the air is thick and suffocating.

Connor holds out his hand palm up. Right hand. The left one is still mysteriously covered— Gavin hasn't seen him use it at all. He wonders if it got hurt somehow.

Jared releases a shaken breath.

"Okay. Fine. I just. I need to delete some stuff first. Theres, uh. Private stuff on it, you know?"

_Jesus Christ._

"Mr. Cravens, we are professionals. We are not going to get off on nudes of your missing wife nor of you. It's important that evidence not be tampered with. Give us the phone."

Holy. Fucking. Shit. If he didn't already find Connor attractive he sure as hell would now. He's a sass machine without even sounding anything but polite. Here he is having to bite back a smile again. At this rate, Connor is going to make him have a permanent tooth indent in his lower lip.

Jared glares as he reaches in his back pocket, pulling out the offending object. Only instead of dropping it in Connor's waiting hand, he holds it out for Gavin to take. What a fucking—

He jerks it away and turns on his heel.

"C'mon, Connor, it's getting late. We should let Mr. Cravens get some sleep."

"Excuse me? You can't just take that!"

He doesn't look back as Connor explains that, yes, they can and they are.

Once they're back in the car, they both heave out great sighs. The clock on the dash reads 11:56PM. No wonder he's exhausted. And they still have to go through this damn phone.

This late at night, sleep clouding his brain, Connor's driving seems…not as terrifying. He expects the speed now and, honestly, he's a good driver. Some punk band is playing at a low volume through the speakers and Connor taps his fingers to the quick rhythm against the wheel. It's so bizarre but he can't even bring himself to make some smart ass remark. He's relaxed like this. It feels safe.

Connor's driving might not be terrifying but that thought is. That being around this android makes him feel _safe_ when just yesterday morning, he'd been ready to throw hands with him. Connor surely doesn't feel the same way. It's hardly fair.

It seems like as soon as his eyes close, he's being shaken awake by an unsure hand to the shoulder.

Ah. Apparently, he feels safe enough to fall asleep in his damn car. The promise of sleep right after they get done browsing at least some of the phone's contents might be a good incentive if he believed that for one second. This isn't his first rodeo. They'll look through it, find something, have to make some calls even if it _is_ midnight. One thing will lead to another and another.

Or they wont find anything. He'll go home and sleep won't come because he'll spend the whole night thinking about this case. It's a cycle that never fails. Justice never sleeps and all that shit.

He envies Connor's privilege of being able to survive without sleep.

***

They have been searching for half an hour and nothing. Just like with her other devices. He's been kicked back scrolling through the actual phone while all Connor had to do was touch it and now it's all in his head. Still, he sits on the edge of Gavin's desk, occasionally commenting on something he finds. A photo of the couple where she's frowning. A journal app with no entries. Nothing that will give them any hints at where she fucking is.

There are only a couple lights on in the office, but the glow of the city outside shines in. He's always loved that about this building— the openness, the big windows. Natural light pours in during the day and at night, muted pinks and blues fill the space. Almost like a nightclub, but so much softer. It's peaceful. This is why he never minds staying until early hours of the morning.

Only now, distracted by Connor's long legs and calming voice, he's less at peace and _so much more_ on edge.

Gavin is frustrated.

"You know you could just go home, right? It's all in your head now or whatever so why are you even still here?" He snaps. It's not right. Connor didn't do anything but, unfortunately, he is the unlucky person stuck with him tonight. He tilts his head like a fucking puppy.

"But you can't leave. You can't take physical evidence to your-"

"Yeah, I _know_. So, why don't you just go? I got it."

Connor's eyes become slits.

"We're partners."

And that's all he says before they are plunged into minutes more of silence. He's about to go make more coffee when Connor let's out the smallest of gasps. They make eye contact and he knows something's bad. Connor's found something, if the tense look painting his features is anything to go by. He reaches out with a pearly white hand and touches the phone Gavin's holding. He has to do a double take but Connor's human skin is back in an instant. He knows what he saw, though, and it was—

Mesmerizing. For a split second, it was like something out of a dream. He's only ever seen glimpses of androids without their skin. It seems like an intimate thing. He'll probably never see Connor do it again.

For some reason, he really wants to.

"These are… interesting searches, don't you think?."

His screen has changed to the search history Connor's been reviewing.

_Sad all the time_

_Just married but depressed_

_Should I leave husband_

"Sounds like trouble in paradise," he mutters.

"Just keep scrolling."

So he does. With each swipe, he is transported further and further back in time. Most are normal. There is a point where it's nothing except wedding related searches.

But every so often a hidden horror pops up.

_Covering bruises makeup tutorial_

_How to cover up black eye_

_Cheating boyfriend_

_Signs of sociopath_

_Controlling boyfriend_

_Boyfriend doesn't let me see friends_

_Is boyfriend mean or am I sensitive_

"Christ," he drops the phone on his desk and rubs a hand down his face. He's read all he needs to.

"It sounds like she left willingly. She was clearly contemplating it."

"Maybe."

"You don't agree?"

It's not that it isn't a possibility— it's a big one. Its just that he remembers. He remembers all the Google searches and message boards and articles and none of it was enough to convince himself to leave. Not until it didn't even matter anymore.

Sure, he'd thought about it _a lot_ , especially there toward the end. Every time vile words were spat at him, every time he caught Him cheating, he'd think _next time_. Every time was _next time_.

It took the most traumatizing night of his life to finally see the light.

"It's not— I mean, yeah, maybe. But we cant rule out a kidnapping either. A lot of times, victims wanna leave, ya know? They just— sometimes they just stay. It's messy."

"I've seen it a bunch," he tacks on as an afterthought.

Connor's giving him a look. Like he's analyzing him or some shit. How much can he see? How much does he know? God, this is so fucking uncomfortable and now he's nervous sweating. Great.

"I suppose that's a good point. It's a shame this isn't enough evidence to consider Mr. Cravens a suspect," a slight frown pulls at his lips. "Though, it's highly unlikely he actually is. It would just be nice to—"

"Make the piece of shit squirm? Yeah. Too bad,"

Connor huffs out a barely-there laugh.

His heart has calmed down significantly. Thinking about the past never fails to get him worked up and he absolutely fucking hates it.

He hopes Eliza ran. He hopes she made it out and wont ever look back. He's rooting for her.

Connor offers to drive him home since it's not out of the way and he seriously considers saying yes. _More time with Connor,_ his brain supplies.

And that's precisely what makes him get a taxi, instead.

Yeah, he'd thought that maybe they could be friends.

But he's scared.

_ February 19, 2039 _

They have brought two people in for questioning so far. One, a salesman, happened to know both couples and Gavin was sure they'd figured it out. Until they interrogated him. Then it became abundantly clear that, no, they are far from cracking the case.

The past week has been one big boiling pot of nothing. They are getting nowhere and they're running out of ideas _and_ time. The longer it takes to figure this out, the more likely someone is bound to turn up dead.

There's only so much they can do with so little to work with.

Just because he's working with Connor now, doesn't mean paperwork has stopped, either. It feels like the biggest time waster when he and Connor have their asses sitting on opposite sides of the room, each mindlessly tapping on keyboards.

His fingers should be flying over _his_ keyboard right now but instead he stares at the screen in a trancelike state. He just can't get these missing girls out of his head. There has to be something else they can do, something they've overlooked. Maybe if they—

A hand clamps down on his shoulder and he's pretty sure he's literally jumped out of his skin and all that's left behind is a skeleton. _Jesus Christ_. He doesn't need to look to know Connor is the culprit. Before, he would've suspected Tina, but Connor has this way of squeezing the goddamn hell of his shoulder that is completely unique to him. Within just a couple weeks he's grown accustomed to it. It's terrible.

"What did I say about announcing your fuckin' self? You're gonna give me an actual heart attack, _shit_ ," he hisses.

"I just got off the phone with Tate. He received a call from our perp and managed to record some of the message to send to us. I've already alerted the phone company and got exact coordinates on where the call was placed, so right after we listen to this, we're leaving," Connor rushes his words out, eyes a little wider than usual.

Shit. Okay. Okay. So, maybe this is it. Maybe this is what they need. Gavin is out of his chair in an instant and, consequently, standing toe to toe with Connor. Right in each other's space. This close, he can see that Connor has fucking freckles peppered across his nose.

_Focus_.

Connor puts his work phone on speaker and holds it between them. His heart is still hammering from being snuck up on and now from being so close to Connor and anticipating this message— this is how he dies.

_"Just don't hurt her, please, please let her go."_

_"Did you know androids have to breathe in order to survive? Isn't that stupid? Why would we design such a thing?"_

_"Please. Why are you doing this? Do you want money? You can have all my money, I don't care, just—"_

_"I think she breathes for you."_

The line goes dead. A few things:

  1. That is not a human speaking to Tate. That is a program— an old one at that. The robotic voice makes the whole thing even creepier. This person really knows how to cover their tracks.
  2. The kidnapper used "we" when talking about humans. This is not an android they're dealing with. Not that he thought that was a big probability anyway. Humans are constantly proving that androids are morally better.

  3. Tate is sobbing the whole time and he'd be lying if he said hearing those pained gasps and whimpers didn't break his heart just a tiny bit.
  4. Androids have to breathe?



They are still staring at each other, way too close for comfort. Both stunned into silence. Connor looks more shaken than he's ever seen him and out of fucking nowhere he has this urge to grab his face and _touch_. Hug him. Pat his head. Anything. Anything to get that stricken look off his face.

He can't do that. That is absolutely not allowed. _Ever_.

"Let's go."

***

He takes back everything he thought about feeling safe in Connor's car. Connor is a maniac and they are going to die before this perpetrator even has a chance to try to kill them.

"The squad car is going ahead of us for a reason— why are you trying to goddamn pass— _Shit_!"

The car turns so sharply, he's positive it's on two wheels. Brakes are slammed and Connor is out of the car before Gavin can even yell at him. He's pissy and sweaty and his nerves are all over the place as he tries to get out too fast, completely forgetting to undo the seatbelt. He's yanked back against the seat and makes sure to deliver a swift kick under the dash before he catches up with Connor.

The coordinates sit in an alleyway between a cannabis shop and a popular restaurant. Not exactly the most inconspicuous place for a criminal to do their bidding. Connor is staring down at a broken, beyond out of date, flip phone. Ah. They should've known. A burner. Classic. The two officers who came as back up in the squad car are looking around, confused at the complete inactivity of the scene. They probably expected a shoot out or something equally dramatic. Gavin is years past being a rookie but he sort of did, too. It really felt like they had something.

"There are no fingerprints," Connor says, frustration clear in his voice.

He resists the urge to groan and tells the officers that they're free to go. There's nothing more for them to do here besides put this useless phone into an evidence bag.

He has dealt with criminals who want to play games. It is always, _always_ a waiting game. Weeks. Months. In one case, it was two years before they found the killer. It was a whole big thing— crazy news coverage, everyone knew about it.

He hopes with everything he's got that this isn't going to be like that.

Especially for Connor's sake, considering it looks like he's about to become robot brain dead or some shit. Like he just can't comprehend not knowing what to do next. How much is riding on him solving this? When they got the case, Fowler had let it slip that Connor is on a trial period. He wishes he was brave enough to ask him personal questions.

_How long is this trial period? Is Hank on one too? What happened to your hand and why are you hiding it? Why do you always look so unhappy? Do you know how guilty I feel for what I did to you? You said you wanted us to start over, but do you still hate me?_

He has so many.

For now, he settles on doing his job.

"We should talk to the people in these shops. Ask if they've seen anything suspicious, see about pulling security footage. I'll take Stoners R Us, you take," he waves a hand, "The other one."

Thankfully, Connor breaks free of his trance.

_ February 24, 2039 _

Tina is too amused for her own good. Day in and day out, she pesters him about Connor. She doesn't know how badly he needs her to stop.

"I know you like him! He's exactly your type— the whole adorably mysterious vibe totally gets you."

He needs her to stop feeding his brain impossible ideas. If she knew what he did, she wouldn't be saying any of this.

Impossible, untouchable ideas.

_ February 25, 2039 _

Another cruel message. Another burner phone found with no trace of the bastard left behind.

They sit in the parking garage, waiting to go back into the station. It's snowing again. He's not sure what they're waiting for, but he's perfectly content just watching Connor stare ahead and rub his thumb absently against the steering wheel. Maybe he's waiting for Gavin to get out of his fucking car.

But here's the thing:

He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to go in and look over what little information they have and be as clueless about how to solve this as every other goddamn day. He doesn't want to busy himself with paperwork, he wants to stay here with Connor where nothing else exists except them and the car and the snow.

"Gavin?" Connor says his name so quiet and gentle, it sounds like something sacred. "I'm starting to think that these cases are not related."

Yeah. He's been thinking the same thing, even though a couple weeks ago he's the one who told Connor to keep an open mind. If these two were related then Jared Cravens would've gotten calls by now. Not just Tate. On one hand, they've got a psycho android kidnapper and on the other they've got what is most likely a woman who finally had enough of her shitty husband. He tells Connor as much.

"Should we explain it to Captain Fowler?"

They won't be together anymore. Connor will be stuck working Heather's overly complicated case by himself. Or maybe Hank will get put on with him. And he'll be left with a bag of dicks that goes by Jared and a missing woman who probably doesn't want to be found. He and Connor will probably rarely speak to each other. If at all. They won't have a reason to— work is the only thing they ever talk about.

He doesn't want to tell Fowler. How fucking selfish of him.

Maybe Connor brought it up because he wants to get away from Gavin. Maybe he's learned that starting over wasn't actually what he wanted. He swallows down all his bullshit reasons of why they should keep these cases together.

"Probably.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains a brief mention of a past suicide attempt!

_ March 3, 2039  _

Tina flings a noodle across the table and it sticks right between his eyes. It's not funny _or_ impressive.

"It's okay to smile you know?"

He peels the rogue noodle off his face before someone sees.

"Or are you just so broody all the time now because you miss—"

"I tried to kill him."

It slips out like a bar of soap from between fingers. Accidentally. Clumsily. Stupidly.

Even after the half assed apology, it's been weighing heavy on his mind. It's all he thinks about. Connor takes up at least 94% of his brain now and he doesn't know how to fucking fix it.

"What?"

It's a rare occurrence for Tina to be caught off guard. She's seen a lot of shit, heard a lot of shit. One simple sentence has done it, though.

He can't look at her. He's staring at his pasta like it's the most interesting thing in the world, as he mentally prepares to lose his one and only friend.

"I don't understand, you…you were working together. You guys smiled at each other—I don't. Why would you—what?"

He grinds his teeth. Thinking about it is bad. Talking about it is shattering.

"He never told you? Thought you guys were all buddy, buddy now."

She squints at him. "Not as buddy, buddy as the two of you have been recently. Or so I thought. Now, spill, asswipe."

No going back now. He dug his grave and now he has to lay in it.

"The night of the revolution? I, uh. Tried to shoot him in the archive room."

He doesn't tell her that five minutes before that, he had a gun to Connor's head as a joke. And he doesn't tell her that days before, he pulled a gun on him in the interrogation room.

There it is. Laid out all nice and ugly. His throat is closing up. Tina isn't saying anything. She's going to leave after all these years because he ruins _everything_. They can't even have a nice meal at a semi-nice restaurant without him ruining it.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he chokes out and, perfect, lovely, he's going to cry right here where everyone and their mother can see. "Tina. I'm turning into Him. I _am_ Him."

His worst nightmare come true.

He needs to get out of here. Of all the places for this to happen, a crowded restaurant is not—

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Gavin. _Gavin_."

A small hand stretches across the table to rest atop his own. She's not leaving.

Why isn't she leaving? Did she not hear? He tried to take an innocent life.

"Listen to me. What you did to Connor? It sounds horrible, okay. Im not gonna lie. But it is not the same thing that happened to you and you know it. You and Connor were not in a relationship. You and Connor were not supposed to love each other and keep each other safe. I know you like him now, dude, but that's still not even in the same ballpark. How many times have you pointed guns at criminals? That's never bothered you. You thought you were doing the same thing with Connor. He was just another bad guy."

_She's not leaving and he is not like Him._

"You do know Connor has _actually_ killed, right? His own people. So, yeah. Maybe you had a super bad moment, but out of the two of you, who's done worse?"

"Doesn't count. He thought he was doing the right thing."

"So did you."

He finally looks up and Tina's eyebrows are drawn together, causing her forehead to wrinkle in a way that makes her look ten years older. An expression of pain. She's remembering all those years ago, sitting with him in the hospital. She's thinking about what he did to Connor and she's telling him it's not the same.

"Besides, it doesn't seem like he's holding a grudge against you. If anything, it seems like he want's to hold something _else_ against you."

She fucking winks and laughs like the most serious bombshell ever wasn't just dropped.

There is a weight lifted off him. Not completely. Not even halfway.

But it's something.

_ March 7, 2039  _

He was only partially right when he predicted they wouldn't talk anymore.

The first few days after their cases got separated were awkward as hell. There was plenty of confusing eye contact from across the room. Plenty of mumbled 'heys' and 'byes.' It's not that Gavin wanted to go back to ignoring him, but there was no reason for them to be around each other anymore. They did their short lived team up thing. He figured that's all he was ever going to have.

He constantly hates himself for wanting more.

Acquaintanceship? Friendship? He doesn't know what he wants, but one thing's for sure, and it's the fact that Connor doesn't owe him any of it.

But, dammit, he's already gone and got attached. Hard to ignore someone whose desk is right in his line of sight. Hard to ignore someone he sees nearly everyday.

Impossible to ignore someone who drives him crazy, someone whose car he's slept in, someone as attractive and badass and hard to figure out as Connor _fucking_ Anderson.

He broke on the fourth day of silence. Strolled right over to Connor's desk and started a bullshit conversation about the fucking weather, of all things. Just because he doesn't think he can let him go. Not now.

Connor had smiled at him and his LED even spun blue for a couple seconds. A far cry from what happened last time he ventured across the room to Connor.

It seemed like that one decision melted the ice between them.

They seek each other out now. At least, that's what it seems like. Gavin sees him go to the break room and suddenly he has such a craving for coffee it's impossible to ignore. Connor comes to lean against his desk and tells him about Tate's latest ominous phone call. Sometimes they leave at the same time and he walks Connor to his car; partly because it's not safe for androids to be alone at night and partly because he'll take any time he can get.

Tina is right. He likes Connor on a dangerous level. And after what she said, he can look at him without immeasurable guilt seeping into his chest. Most of the time.

Now, as he's about leave the station for the night, Connor catches up with him and asks point blank if he's off work tomorrow. His heart stops. He can't possibly be about to ask him on a date. Gavin would say no. Of course he would say no. Connor knows that, right?

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

Unrealistic.

"I need to see you."

If he was somehow mistaken about his heart stopping five seconds ago, he's definitely sure of it now.

Impossible.

"Hank is working tomorrow, so you could stop by during the day. He'll never know."

Okay, what the fuck? Connor leans in close and whispers, "It's about our missing persons. I think I have something."

Ah. Right. Of course. It's about the cases, of course it is, what else? They couldn't very well be seen _here_ working on the two now unrelated files together, so yeah. Of course. He wishes he had it in him to feel even the slightest bit of disappointment at this turning out to be about work but, really, he's just excited to spend time with Connor outside the station.

He's so fucking lonely and pitiful.

_ March 8, 2039 _

It feels a little like being a teenager and sneaking out of his house to go kiss boys and smoke pot. Except, he and Connor aren't kissing. Or smoking. So, it's kind of a moot comparison.

But they _are_ sneaking. He can tell Connor feels disloyal to Hank, letting the enemy in his home and all. Gavin thinks he does a great job of pretending it doesn't sting.

There is a set of photos laid across the kitchen table, all of Heather and Eliza. Now, seeing so many pictures beside each other, he has a feeling he knows where Connor is going with this. And he cant believe they were too stupid to realize it sooner. Pale skin, brown eyes, chestnut hair, square shaped faces. Both of them.

"The resemblance is uncanny, isn't it?"

He drags a hand over his face, hating himself just a little bit more. They'd been so focused on trying to figure out what an android and human could possibly have in common, they completely overlooked the most obvious thing.

"Shit. We fucked up."

Connor crosses his arms and he has that sad puppy look, but with a side of determination.

"We did. But now we can try to make it right."

"So, uh, you thinking like mistaken identity here or?"

"It could be a number of things. From mistaken identity to someone with a perverse fixation on women who look like this. And there's still the possibility that the cases aren't related."

God, this is the worst. He opens his mouth to say so, but the doorbell rings and he has a fucking heart attack. His heart skips a beat. _Hank's home and he's going to get murdered._

"Fuck, he's gonna cut my dick off," he hisses.

_Why is Hank ringing the doorbell to his own home?_

Connor is looking at him like he's the funniest shit he's ever seen.

"Don't worry, Hank isn't here to castrate you. That would be the delivery service."

Jesus. Fuck.

Once Connor has the package in his hands, it seems like he becomes lost. At first he starts walking back to the kitchen, but then looks at Gavin and freezes, LED blinking red a couple times.

"You having a robot stroke or?"

"No, I—" he shakes his head, looking confused as hell. "This is mine."

He walks the rest of the way into the kitchen and sits the small box on the table. And then just stares at it as if it's a puzzle waiting to be solved.

"Uh. Okay? Are you gonna open it?"

"I'm trying to decide if I want to have you help me with this or wait for Hank."

Okay. He's officially confused and weirded out. What could possibly be in there that's making Connor act so cryptic? A robo-dick? Why…what kind of help would he possibly need with that…why would he let Hank help him with that?

Why would he let _Gavin_ help him with that?

The serious look fades from Connor's face when he voices this and is instead replaced by a small smile. Finally, he starts opening the package the best he can with one hand.

"No but close, I suppose. It _is_ a body part."

Gavin's heart stops and for a second he's terrified Connor is about to pull out a robot vagina or fucking nipple stickers or some shit.

He holds up a white plastic hand with long, nimble fingers that match his own.

Oh.

Connor drops down into the chair beside him with a small sigh. They both stare at the severed limb.

And then Connor takes his glove off.

"I…I could use a hand with this."

"What the _fuck_ —"

A hole is blown clean through the center of his palm. The edges are blackened, looking like it's been burned closed. When he wished to see his real skin again, this is _so_ not what he meant.

"This is why you've been wearing that dumb glove? What the fuck happened?"

He's only freaking out a little. Connor goes silent for a few moments, biting his lip. Gavin vaguely wonders if he picked that habit up from him.

"I don't know if I should tell you the truth or lie."

That definitely doesn't sound good. His LED is pulsing yellow quicker than he's ever seen.

"Christ. Why? Just—you don't have to tell me anything. What do I do here?" He eyes the brand new hand just lying there on the kitchen table. God. When did his life get so fucking bizarre?

"Push in, twist counterclockwise and pull out. It might take some force."

"That's what she said," he mumbles and very, very hesitantly grabs hold of Connor's broken hand. This is weird. Probably in the Top 10s of weird shit he's done. He's thankful the human skin is retracted or else he might throw up. At least this way, it's just plastic.

Just plastic.

Just Connor.

"I got shot," he explains while Gavin works.

"Mm. Kinda figured."

A long, drawn out pause.

"I shot myself."

Connor says it as soon as he clicks the brand new hand in place. Well. Hearing those words from his perfect mouth, in his perfect voice, makes a slight wave of nausea overtake him. He looks up into dark brown eyes, afraid of what he'll find in them but…there's nothing different. Nothing beyond the usual hint of melancholy.

"I don't know if you noticed but I was absent from work for a few days in January. I had to get the wound tended to and get fitted for a new hand and," Connor pauses and runs a hand through his hair, "Speak to a mental health professional before I was allowed back."

He doesn't know what to say. Connor continues, maybe out of nervousness.

"I was able to return a detective under the agreement that I would go through a year long trial period. In Captain Fowler's words, all I have to do is not fuck up," Connor sighs. "I should have been terminated after this incident."

Fuck, he sounds so depressed and Gavin guesses he is, and that's just—that's not right. Connor doesn't deserve to feel like shit about himself. Not when he's so goddamn cool. He rubs his suddenly very tired eyes.

"No, they made the right choice keeping you on. Everybody's got problems. If people got canned every time they did something a little crazy, nobody in the world would have jobs. I mean, Hank's an alcoholic and he's a lieutenant."

 _And I'm a human disaster and look at me_ , he doesn't say.

Connor is quiet, stretching his new fingers out. He looks so uncomfortable, it's hard to watch.

He can't believe how lost he's become over this one android. Accepting him was one thing. That was necessary. _Liking_ him? He was never supposed to like Connor this much, and definitely not this fast.

It bothers him how seeing him hurt, hurts him. This is not supposed to be happening.

He doesn't know a lot about himself, but one thing is for certain—he doesn't do shit halfway. And the universe throwing a handsome, broken android in front of him really proves it.

"I tried to shoot myself in the head when I was a teenager. But, ah, it was my stepdad's pistol and the thing wasn't even loaded. So," he shrugs and worries about how much he just overshared. But Connor trusted him with his dirty little secret, so it's only fair. A sad story for another sad story. God knows Gavin's got plenty of those.

Connor's eyes go wid

"That's horrible. You were only a child."

Things have taken a dark turn. He needs to make light of all this. Turn it into something inconsequential. Deflect.

He forces out a weak laugh.

"Technically, you're not even a year old."

Connor makes a face like he wants to argue but settles for brushing a hand through his already messed up curls again.

"I don't think I want to die. Hank tells me I have suicidal tendencies, but I just want—I did it because I wanted to feel it. There are so many emotions, so many feelings in my head, but physically? Nothing. I can feel pressure but it doesn't mean anything. It's like there's no outlet for all this built up inside of me."

He understands more than he'd like to admit. In the human way, at least. There's a certain desire to feel anything, even pain, after being numb for so long. Digging his nails into his arms, punching his thigh, feeling his knuckles go raw against a punching bag—he can't imagine not having that outlet.

Connor takes a deep breath. Ever since Creep Call #1, he's been noticing androids breathe. Particularly Connor. He can't believe he was never aware of it before, with how long androids have been working at the station. It's scary how similar their two…species are. He'd never realized.

"Thank you, Gavin."

 _For what_ , he almost asks until he notices Connor wiggle his brand new fingers. Right.

"You think if we tell Fowler about this, it'll fuck up your whole trial thing?" he nods to the photos on the table, eager to change the subject. "Cause this is, uh. Big time fuck-up."

He doesn't know why he's asking or why he cares. They have to get back to Fowler with this, regardless. These cases have to be together again. Lives are on the line, and they can't keep it to themselves just because there's a chance Connor might lose his job.

But if he _does_ lose his job and someone else gets these cases, won't that be jeopardizing lives just the same? Connor is the best of the best. As much as he absolutely hates the fact, he doesn't know if anyone else will ever be able to crack this. He sure as hell can't do it by himself—especially right now, when there's next to nothing to go on. If Connor is fired for this one little mistake, it could very well be like signing a death sentence for these two girls.

He doesn't know how high up the agreement for Connor's trial period goes. Is it up to Fowler to make the call? If so, surely he wouldn't let Connor go when they need him most. But if it's the police commissioner? Hell, if it goes all the way up to fucking Perkins? He knows that dick face already has a hard on at the idea of getting rid of Connor.

Fuck.

"If you're asking whether I intend to report our findings, the answer is yes. Even if it means losing my job."

Connor is giving him a hard look. He can probably see the smoke rolling out his ears from how hard is brain is working right now.

Connor losing his job just isn't an option. It's not the right way to go.

"No."

"No?"

"We can partner back up on this, but we don't need to tell anybody."

Connor serves him another Look.

"You mean go behind the higher-up's backs."

He nods, still thinking, still trying to figure up all the ways this could end badly for _both_ of them.

"And you're aware that at this time, it's illegal for me to see any case files that are not directly assigned to me. Doing this would make you an accomplice."

He nods again, completely unsure he's choosing the right path.

"Why are you willing to risk your job for me?" Connor questions so quietly it comes out a whisper.

He doesn't know. He really doesn't.

"Not for you. I just wanna help these people. And I can't afford to lose you, if I wanna do that."

It's the truth, he thinks. Part of it, anyway.

There are still doubts in the back of his mind screaming at him that the most rational explanation is that Eliza ran away. But if it's not? They have to do this. He's already invested, he already cares about these girls, cares about Tate getting the love of his life back. Getting justice for Eliza.

So, yeah. He's going to risk his job, his self worth, for the safety of their victims. And in doing that, he's risking his job, his self fucking worth, for _Connor_.

How the tables have turned since November.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There! Is! [Fanart!](https://nyiv4n.tumblr.com/post/184822321112/just-finished-reading-this-fanfic-breathe) Plz give tumblr user Nyiv4n some love they are an amazing artist <3

_ March 13, 2039  _

_He has never felt fear so deep. He closes his eyes, not wanting to see the moment his life will end. Not wanting to see the top tier shitty way it will all come to a screeching halt._

_So stupid. He has been so indescribably stupid and this is where it's gotten him. All these years he should've known this was always how it was going to end._

_"You know what, sweetheart? You're not even worth the goddamn bullet."_

His heart thumps wildly, back drenched in sweat. For one horrible second he's back in the floor of their old apartment, bloody and broken. Hurt physically and mentally. Feeling used and worthless and so fucking foolish.

Tina's voice brings him back to this reality.

"Hey, finally. Thought I was gonna have to pour this hot coffee on you."

His couch isn't the best for naps and his already aching neck proves it. Tina is here, holding a coffee from the café next door. Sometimes he regrets giving her a key, but in times like this, he's so grateful for her invasion of privacy. He's safe.

When he doesn't speak, Tina's face melts into concern.

"Nightmare?"

Breathe. Safe.

"Mm."

"About—"

"Yeah."

"I didn't know you still had those, Gav," she says softly and eases down to sit beside him.

Yeah. He didn't. Rarely. He hadn't until Connor was suddenly back, reminding him of every mistake he's ever made. But he _apologized_. Kind of. They reconciled. They're working a case together in secret, he put Connor's _hand_ on for him. He'd say they're probably acquaintances by now. So, what's with these dreams— memories—still happening?

Maybe it's because of this shit with Jared And Eliza Cravens. Maybe it's just too personal for him and the case is infecting his brain.

But maybe it's still because of Connor. Maybe it's because his feelings for him _possibly_ aren't completely platonic. Possibly. And the last time he felt more than platonically for someone…

Maybe his brain is trying to tell him to stop. Stop thinking that he and Connor could ever be anything more than friendly coworkers at most. A warning.

Things don't go right for him. It's like a universal law. Things that go up must come down and Gavin Reed doesn't get happiness.

Tina pushes the hot cup into his hands.

_ March 16, 2039  _

Ivy Daniels, Eliza's best friend who just so happened to be on a grand tour of Europe for the past few weeks, is pissed. No one told her what happened. She only found out yesterday with her return home. Gavin hadn't even known of her existence until now. Her contact wasn't in Eliza's phone at all, making it completely obvious that Jared managed to delete all traces of her in the short amount of time he had the phone.

Gavin can guess why.

Now he stands stiff and awkward in her kitchen as she furiously stirs sugar into a pitcher of lemonade.

"My parents said they didn't wanna _ruin my time_. I mean, can you believe that? I don't even know what to do with myself. Look at me—I'm just standing here making lemonade!" She shrieks and clamps a hand over her mouth as tears start to gather in her eyes. He looks away.

He wishes Connor were here.

They both decided it was best for him not to come around this case as Jared definitely can't be trusted to keep his mouth shut. He knows Connor was officially taken off. Being that he's a huge dick, there's no doubt he'll tattle if he catches even one whiff of him around.

But he wishes he were here. He doesn't know _why_ because Connor is kind of shit at consoling people—that's one department Gavin is better in, at least.

It just feels a little wrong doing this without him.

Ivy slams her palm on the countertop, swallowing hard like she's trying to pull herself together.

"I'm gonna fucking kill that son of a bitch," she mutters, eyes going wide when she seems so realize she's said this in front of a goddamn detective. He jumps in before an apology or explanation starts pouring from her mouth.

"Who? Her husband? You think he's behind this?"

His interest is definitely piqued. Maybe this is the start of something. Her eyes stay wide for a second more before her whole body deflates with a sigh.

"No. No, I don't think Jared—what, kidnapped her? _Killed her_? It's just," she shakes her head. "We hate each other, so of course he didn't call me, but it still pisses me off. She's my…best friend. And nobody fucking told me."

"And you don't think it's a little strange your contact was deleted from her phone?"

She lets out a harsh laugh, "If police saw the things we talked about, he knows he'd be dead. He's an abusive piece of shit."

Her eyes narrow.

"But you already know that, don't you?"

Gavin has known this woman for only around half an hour, but he's already learned that she is an _eccentric_ character. And maybe a little intimidating, too—from her strong presence to her multiple facial piercings. He swallows. Nods.

"Then why," she steps closer, "Is his ass not in jail right now?"

He wishes they could do something. She has no idea. He stands as straight as he can. She's taller.

"There's nothing that can be considered real proof. All we have are vague Google searches. Besides, Eliza Cravens isn't here to…yeah. That's not what this case is about. I'm sorry."

She probably doesn't believe him. She looks like she doesn't believe him. He can tell she's got a problem with authority. That's fine. So does he. He doesn't need her trust. He only needs her insight.

He groans internally, steeling himself for this next part. It's always messy.

"There's a possibility that she—"

"Don't. She did not run away. She wouldn't leave without telling me."

"That's what a lot of people think," he says as gently as he can manage, despite a look of pure determination being leveled at him.

"She would not leave without telling me," she repeats slower and more sure of herself. In fact, she sounds so certain that he's having a hard time not agreeing with her.

What ensues is a stare off so intense, it could rival the ones he and Connor have.

Finally, he sighs, looking away. "Okay."

She pushes a glass that he hadn't even notice she'd poured across the counter.

"Lemonade?"

_ March 16, 2039  _

Three successive knocks on his door scare the shit out of him. Tina always just uses her key and it's not like he's ordered any food. He's in the middle of (stress) baking.

Three perfect knocks. He has a feeling he knows exactly who it is, and opening the door, he finds he's right.

Connor stands there wearing light ripped jeans and a faded T-shirt, looking like he stepped straight out of a casual Friday clothing catalogue. It's startling because he's never seen Connor out of dress clothes, and despite the fact that he _always_ looks good, right now he looks like sex on legs. Christ.

Startling, too, because it's cold as shit out and he's wearing short sleeves.

It's not easy to forget that Connor is an android—especially with that bright LED a constant yellow. Just… sometimes it slips his mind that they're different.

"You look comfortable," he says without really thinking. Connor _smirks_ and gives him a once over, blatantly checking him out from his sock clad feet all the way up to where he's positive flour is smeared across his forehead. Suddenly, self conscious and painfully aware of how dumb he must look with flour powdered all over himself, he crosses his arms. As if that will hide him away from Connor's judgement.

"And you look busy. Is it a bad time?"

He swallows. _Yes_.

"No. You can come in."

This is the first time Connor's been in his apartment. They've been meeting up at a library, of all places, in Corktown to do their super secret detective work. Like an after school project. Both of them are so scared shitless about being found out, that they don't dare meet anywhere downtown. Hank's house is definitely off the table. Gavin hasn't even considered inviting Connor to his own place because it seemed too intimate. Having Connor in his living space is the exact opposite of the distance he's supposed to be maintaining with him.

Now Connor's gone and broke the barrier by just showing up uninvited.

He's trying to be inconspicuous about analyzing the apartment. Gavin can tell by the way he stands still with eyes wandering all over the place. It kind of pisses him off. Hasn't Hank taught him manners?

His place isn't anything special. He tries to keep it clean and tidy—picking up mess has always been therapeutic for him. There's probably a metaphor in there somewhere.

His kitchen is wrecked right now, though, matching how much of a disaster he feels like, and probably looks like. He has a few old photos of his mom and sister hanging up. One of Tina and himself. Connor's probably disappointed. Probably secretly expected an android torture chamber or some shit.

He's about to ask why he's here, when Minnie emerges from the shadows to rub against the newcomer's shins. And Connor, the dork, actually gasps out loud, LED turning blue instantly. Amazing. Gavin's only been able to make it glow blue a couple times in the whole two months they've been on good terms.

He is not jealous of his cat.

"You're so beautiful," Connor crouches down to let Minnie sniff his hand. He has to bite back a burst of laughter because Minnie is _hairless_ and _wrinkled_. Of course Gavin knows she's beautiful—she's his baby. It's just that other people don't typically think of hairless cats as anything other than ugly.

"What's your name?" Connor coos at her.

Okay. He can just stop that right now.

"Minnie. Her name's Minnie."

"You named your cat after a Disney character?" Connor looks up at him with a soft smile. He sputters.

"No. Fuck you, maybe I just thought she looked like a Minnie."

He did, in fact, name his cat after Minnie Mouse. Only because his sister always said once she moved out and got a pet, that's what she would name it. He was just honoring her wishes and all that bullshit. It's not something Connor needs to know.

"No need to get so defensive, Gavin."

The way he says it all smug and jokingly makes his skin bristle with the old familiar annoyance. Sure, Connor's cute but he's also a _bastard_.

"Did you just come here to meet my cat and piss me off or?"

He gives Minnie one last pat and stands up.

"I'm going to meet Tate at a café, just to check up on him. I know you're obsessed with coffee, so I thought you might like to join us."

Well, that's a stupid idea. Connor knows they can't be seen with Tate while they're together. Even though Tate is in on their little scheme, it's too risky going out in the open where they could run in to anyone. And he's not _obsessed_ with coffee.

"It's around the waterfront. Not a very popular place, according to Tate. They serve thirium drinks, very pro-android, so not many humans frequent there, I presume. I'm sure we'll go unnoticed," Connor looks more and more unsure of himself with each passing word.

"Besides, to anyone else we could just be friends spending time together. It's not like I'm taking files with me."

Did Connor come with puppy eyes or did he learn that all on his own?

"Fine. Whatever. Just," he looks down at himself and then at the state of his kitchen. He hates coming home to mess. "Let me shower first."

Connor follows his gaze to the ingredient laden counter tops. "I didn't know you were a baker."

"I'm _not_. It's just—"

_Something I do to keep from drowning in shit._

Connor throws him another signature Look that Gavin's starting to get used to. He sighs heavily.

"Just take that shit out of the oven when the timer goes off, will you?"

He makes his way toward the bathroom, where he has no idea how he's going to hold himself together being naked with Connor in his apartment, twenty feet away. He's already feeling over exposed enough, without shedding clothes.

He's living a charmed life.

***

Connor was right, as usual. There's only two other people in the café and they're both androids, just chatting and sipping hot… thirium. Just like Connor. It's weird. It's unnerving. They're like vampires. Connor had said "thirium intake is necessary for our survival" and "I suppose this is an attempt at fitting in with humanity."

Yeah, right. They're robot vampires.

He somehow feels inferior with his very human, very plain, French vanilla latte.

They've been waiting for Tate to show for half an hour. He's starting to get agitated.

"Still think you burned my banana bread on purpose," he grumbles into his cup. Connor actually rolls his eyes, which is a new and interesting development.

"I told you, I got distracted by your cat."

It’s not like he wouldn’t have burned it himself, anyway. He wasn’t lying when he told him he wasn’t a baker. He sucks.

"The timer was going off and everything…," he trails off because Connor holds up a finger to silence him and brings the other hand to rest against his temple.

"Tate, yes, we're here waiting for you."

Gavin looks over his shoulder, thinking he must finally be here.

"Oh. No, we can reschedule. I'm sorry, I hope you feel better soon."

It takes a few seconds to register that Connor's talking on the phone—the phone in his head. He knew androids could do that, it's just that a lot of them had gotten cell phones after the revolution. Connor is a constant reminder of how otherworldly androids truly are.

"Tate has a stomach bug and can't make it."

Gavin huffs out a humorless laugh. Awesome. Dragged out for nothing.

Everyone in this place probably thinks he and Connor are on a date. It's what it feels like—sitting across from someone he (reluctantly) cares about, sipping hot drinks and picking on each other. It has been a long, long, _long_ time since he's had this.

And he still doesn't have it because this is not a date and he doesn't like Connor in that way and Connor _definitely_ doesn't like him in that way. Tentative friends. He has to remind himself of that phrase every second he's around Connor. Tentative friends, tentative friends, tentative—

Connor knocks back the rest of his thirium like a fucking shot.

"Would you like to take a walk?" His lips and tongue are coated blue like he just had a slushie. Gavin bites back a smile. Connor is turning him into butter—too easily melted.

_Tentative friends_.

"It's freezing balls out there and you want me to go walking?"

The corner of Connor's mouth ticks upward in a lopsided smile. He seems happier than usual today. Not so broody and emo. It's a nice change seeing him at ease and smiling easy, though he's not sure what the reason for the sudden difference is.

"A small update was released last night. All newer androids are able to feel temperatures now where previously it was only a YK model feature."

Huh. He remembers how upset he'd had been about not being able to truly, physically feel. That's why he's in such a good mood, apparently. Because now he has the ability to freeze his ass off. He probably won't be happy about it for long. There's only so much cold a person can take and it's spring but Detroit sure hasn't gotten the fucking memo.

Connor's smile is contagious. There's one playing at his own lips now, just from seeing how content the android across from him looks. He's happy for him. He's not used to being happy for anyone. Not even himself.

It would be heartless, really, to deny Connor something as simple as a walk.

"Guess I'll just have to freeze to death for you, then."

And his heart drops into his stomach because that 'for you' was so not meant to escape his lips. Now the damage is done and Connor definitely didn't miss it because his eyes go wide and Gavin feels like a deer caught in headlights.

Both their chairs screech loudly against the floor from how abruptly they stand up.

***

They go to the river walk because apparently normal cold just isn't enough for Connor. No, he has to have riverfront cold.

Gavin's wearing a hoodie paired with his leather jacket, hands stuffed in the pockets for maximum warmth, looking hilarious juxtaposed next to Connor who doesn't even have sleeves.

He didn't think many people would be out in this weather, but once again, androids had slipped his mind. Once again, he feels incredibly small in comparison to them, who are out walking in shorts and tank tops. Most wear shit eating grins, as if feeling the cold is the best thing that's ever happened to them. Clearly, Connor isn't the only one excited about the little update.

A group of newer teen models are even playing in the water on the beachfront. Just what the world needs. More idiot kids.

He about loses his shit when one girl pushes another under the icy waves. His heart beats faster at the instant rush of adrenaline and he lunges forward, ready to have to go save a fucking dumbass life, when Connor grabs his wrist. His fingers are so freezing, it's like a shock to his body.

"They're fine. See?"

Sure enough, the group squeals and cackles with the joy equivalent of people who just won the lottery. Jesus. Androids are going to be the death of him one day. That much is certain.

Connor squints at them. "It _is_ dangerous, though. Extreme temperatures can kill us, just like humans." He gets their attention and chastises them, making sure to explain that androids aren't immune to injury or death and instructs them to go warm up somewhere.

As they turn to head back to the car, he hears one girl mumble, "Okay, Dad," in annoyance. To which another boy in the group adds, "More like daddy."

Brilliant. Hilarious. Amazing. He fucking hates teenagers. Christ.

Gavin doesn't know why this makes _himself_ blush. Heat radiates from his cheeks, despite the chill in the air.

As they walk, he thinks about how he was ready to dive into the freezing river to save an android, without even a second thought. About how he's at a point in his life where he's suddenly risking everything for androids.

And he thinks about how Connor is always trying to keep everyone else safe, so much so that he neglects taking care of himself. He's rubbing his hands over his arms now to protect himself from the wind that's starting to pick up.

Gavin shrugs his jacket off and shoves it at him, before he loses the nerve.

"Practice what you preach."

He stares ahead. If he focuses on Connor wearing his clothes, he might just throw _himself_ in the river, so it's better not to look at all.

"I—Thank you." Hands take the coat a little too gingerly.

"Yeah, whatever. Don't make it weird."

Connor comes to a halt and Gavin is forced to look back at him. Fuck. Surprise, surprise, he's fucking working that jacket. But that's not what takes his breath away.

A bright blue LED pulses against his temple and a smile lights up the rest of his face. A real smile. With teeth and crinkled eyes. His cheeks are tinted blue and he's looking out at the water, almost like he's feeling shy.

He's beautiful.

Connor is beautiful.

_Shit_.

"You are a very strange human, Gavin Reed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look as far as I know Detroit doesn’t actually have a sandy beach area on the river other than belle isle but the year is 2039 and androids are people so the Detroit River gets beachfront ok

**Author's Note:**

> [Mandatory tumblr link](http://space-apples.tumblr.com/)


End file.
